Three Words
by P-3a
Summary: Young Princes awkwardly negotiate romance in their chaotic world. [Originally published November 2013.]
1. Chapter 1

"I love you."

Hearing those three words made Wrathion's breath stop short in his throat. Seeing the expression on Anduin Wrynn's face when he'd said them made his heart do the same thing.

They'd been, admittedly, doing something rather intimate when he'd made his confession. At least, intimate by Wrathion's scale of judging, and he suspected by Anduin's too - if not that of the general population. During the day, playing their board game was just a method of passing the time; in the evening, however? After everyone had left, and there was nobody to save face against? When either of them could have retreated to their room and be thought none the worse by anybody, nor missed by either of their champion?

The shockingly comfortable silence which had fallen over both men while they concentrated on achieving the same task; and not just /any/ task, but one that required coordination, a desire to work together, an understanding of the other's inner thoughts and ways of processing things... /that/ was intimate.

And they'd done it every night. For three weeks.

So perhaps the surprise that Anduin's confession, made as he was leaving to retire for the night with something somewhere between shame and reluctance on his face, had brought about in Wrathion's mind was... misplaced.

He made some helpless noise, his mouth falling open in confusion. "Uhh..." Oh, Gods. He sounded [silly]. Say something witty. No. Say /something/! Anything at all.

"...whuh?"  
Oh. Wonderful. Great. Very eloquent. Good job, Wrathion.

"I- it's- no, never mind." Oh, great. Now he's leaving. Oh no, and he looks so /sad/ too, and-  
"W-Wait," Wrathion stumbled out. "Anduin."  
Anduin turned, and evidently didn't see in Wrathion's face what Wrathion thought was there, because he frowned. "Don't even think of saying something horrid, Wrathion. I'll leave."  
"I- I wasn't-" he realises he sounds indignant, and reigns himself in, pursing his lips and standing up from the table. "Anduin Wrynn..."

Anduin looked afraid, for a moment, and Wrathion hates that. "I... I don't understand," he croaked. "I... I'm a /black dragon/, you've said /many/ a time how /little/ you trust me..."  
"I don't understand it either," Anduin blurted. "I... I'm /sorry/, Wrathion," and he looked like he meant it, with tears pricking at his eyes like that, "I didn't mean to get you involved. Forget I said anything."  
"No!" Wrathion realised he sounded like a petulant child, rooted to the spot with his hands curled up in to fists. "No, you don't just get to... /take it back/ like that! It's not fair!"  
Anduin wrinkled his nose a little, his eyes shining in the faint light from the evening's lanterns. "It's not like you're going to do anything with the information other than lord it over my head, Wrathion."  
"That's not- /no/!" He cursed the way he felt his mask slip for half a second until he noted the way his genuine upset made Anduin's expression soften, too. "I- why would I /tease/ you with something that..." well, in for a copper, in for a gold. "...makes me..."

He bit his lip and dropped his eye contact, realising all at once how foolish he sounded. He felt - and looked, probably - like he wanted to cry, and he had no idea /why/. One taloned finger pushed a playing piece idly around the board just for /something/ to do; he looked up when he heard those queer three-tap footsteps again, seeing Anduin approaching him.

There was still a frown on the blond's pale face, but looking again, Wrathion could see it was borne of confusion, not anger. He felt his breath still again when Anduin, hesitant and nervous, leaned into his personal space. He felt like he was going to pass out when the Prince of Stormwind's lips pressed to his cheek.

Flustered and hardly breathing himself, Wrathion noted, Anduin leaned back. "Fine," he said, the very tip of his tongue wetting his lips for a moment. "Maybe I won't take it back."

Wrathion just stared, dumbly, mouth hanging open a little and throat engaging repeatedly to attempt to say something - and finding itself dry and empty of such wit. He should be grinning smugly, he should be making some comment to egg Anduin on into giving him another kiss, or reassuring him that it was appreciated, or /something/ - he should be saying /something/. But instead all that came was a stuttering flat vowel, and Wrathion cringed at his own inelegance.

Once again, he bit his lip and looked down, finding the lack of eye contact to make his words come easier. "Thank you," he mumbled. "I think."

The tension in the room seemed to dissipate at this admission of gratefulness. Anduin fidgetted with his cane. "Same time tomorrow?" he offered. "Ah - the," he gestured limply to the table, "board game, that is. Unless..."  
"Both," Wrathion blurted. "Both. Yes. Same time tomorrow."  
Anduin gave a small smile that belied the relief Wrathion could see in the rest of his posture. "Both. Alright. Goodnight, Wrathion."  
"Goodnight, Prince Wrynn."

He was surprised - and then again, not surprised at all - at the softness in his own tone.


	2. Chapter 2

"I love you, Wrathion, but if this is how you're going to act, then I doubt your reciprocation!"

Despite seeing the tears on Anduin's face and hearing the way his voice trembled, Wrathion still felt like he'd been struck with a calculated blow. Anduin /knew/ where his soft spots were - because Wrathion, foolishly, had shown him.

Anduin /knew/ Wrathion was afraid of this. Anduin /knew/ that the reason the Black Prince was so distant and aloof was out of fear that affection would be rejected or scorned; he'd heard many times how popular the idea was that black dragons like him were incapable of even /feeling/ love. And now Anduin was telling him the exact same thing.

"How dare you," he responses, his voice shaking. "How dare you invoke those words /now/, Anduin Wrynn! This has /nothing/ to do with my feelings for you! /Nothing/!"  
"It has /everything/ to do with them! You wanted to /slaughter/ countless civilians and you have the /audacity/ to claim that it was for the best! And when your plan /fails/, you lash out at my /father/ for ensuring it?! And then expect /me/ to believe you still love me?!"

Fresh tears spilled down Anduin's reddened cheeks as he spoke that last phrase, and Wrathion sneered to prevent his own from spilling over onto his. "/I/ am a /black dragon/," he said, unable to formulate new words in time and so repeating a phrase from earlier instead. "We are /experts/ at keeping our /personal/ and /professional/ lives /separate/." He took a breath, aware that he was shaking enough for it to be visible. "Evidently, I underestimated /your/ ability to do the /same/..." His voice cracked at the last. "You are proving quite the distraction, Anduin Wrynn."

Anduin snarled at having his name spoken. It startled Wrathion enough that he began to take a step back before standing his ground. "Don't you /dare/ act like this is something that's wrong with me!" He advanced on Wrathion before gripping the front of his tabard; Wrathion tried to appear unaffected, but was well aware of the fear on his face from how Right moved to load her crossbow. He waved her away. Anduin continued: "I drop /everything/ to stay out here with you for /weeks/ on end and /you/ - /you/ can't even respect me enough to listen to a /word/ I say during the /entire time/?!"

Wrathion didn't have a response. He was still reeling. He'd /trusted/ Anduin not to hurt him and for all he knew, trusting him again not to thrust a dagger into his stomach right here and now was going to be his undoing. Perhaps he was more afraid of hurting Anduin by letting Right handle him, than he was of dying. Was that the love that Anduin was so desperately denying?

Anduin dropped his tabard and stalked away, his adrenaline evidently carrying away any pain from his healing leg. "I'm leaving," he said. "And I don't think you can expect to see me again any time soon."

"W-Wait!"

Wrathion felt his face burning with shame and guilt as Anduin turned to face him once again, fury still burning in his eyes. He hated this. He hated Anduin, and he hated how he felt like, if he let him leave now, it would all be for nothing. He hated how it all felt useless without that golden smile.

"I," he began, "I can't... I'm..."  
Anduin looked like he was rapidly losing patience. Wrathion screwed up his face and got ready to spit something spiteful, and was shocked at what came out of his own mouth instead. "I'm /scared/ and I can't- do this without you here, Anduin..." He regretted it immediately, and cursed aloud; he violently brought his hand to strike and press against his forehead, curling his fingers to pull at his hair and desperately stop the tears which had already started falling. "Gods... why this..."

He daren't look up at Anduin to see how he'd reacted, keeping his eyes screwed shut as tears fell from them regardless and bringing his other hand up to hide his /[silly]/ face. Whatever Anduin Wrynn had done to him, it was a greater poison, a sharper dagger than any he'd seen at his time in Ravenholdt or beyond. It hurt more than he could say to imagine that this boy who would be leaving him so soon anyway, not a century left to spend on this world, could walk out of the door and never be seen again by him. Not in any way Wrathion cared for, anyway. He had no interest in spying on him - it wasn't the same unless he wanted it.

He flinched as he felt arms close around him, and only cried harder when he realised they were Anduin's. He buried his face in his tabard, sobbing in ways he hadn't since those first few cold and bitter days at Ravenholdt when he'd still missed his mother - ways he'd promised himself he never would again. He could feel Anduin's heart pounding against his sternum, and hoped he felt no victory, in this defeat of his.

It was like the board game, after all. The object was for both players to win, and with Wrathion making wretched hurt cries against Anduin's chest, he couldn't feel anything other than ashamed.


	3. Chapter 3

"I love you," he laughed, and it was the first time since that night that the words hadn't made Wrathion flinch.

He hadn't ever let Anduin know, of course. It was a weakness he was well aware of, and he'd already shown it one too many times to be comfortable with expressing it every time Anduin hit upon it. He'd learned that even his Light-bearing Prince wasn't to be trusted in that respect.

And at first, he'd been very guarded. Distant, almost. Sometimes going so far as to push Anduin away - asking him to sleep in his own room instead of Wrathion's, or escaping out onto the roof in his whelp form once Anduin had fallen asleep. He wanted no flaw in his appearance. Not a single crack in his façade. No risk of Anduin waking to find him emotional.

And, again, at first, that's how it had gone. But behaving in that way had rendered Wrathion exhausted. He'd believed himself capable of holding it up indefinitely, with a little help from Left and Right when he'd needed it, but finding himself unable to relax in Anduin's presence had taken its toll on his presence of mind. One messy breakdown a few months after the fact had taught him that lesson, and he'd tried again, just a little less guarded. Letting Anduin see him when he was sad, or tired. And eventually, they'd settled back into their old status quo.

He was shocked to find how /much/ he needed the older Prince.

He worried, desperately and constantly whenever he didn't have something else to focus on, that his attachment was too strong. He /knew/ it was foolish; he didn't need to worry about /that/. He'd already allowed Anduin to influence his plans far more than he'd ever intended, and /that/ worried him. He worried that Anduin would grow bored or angry with him and threaten, once again, to leave, and that Wrathion would be left begging and bargaining for him not to make it so.

Eventually, at the edge of another breakdown, he'd confessed to Anduin how deeply his concerns ran. And Anduin, to Wrathion's surprise, had /apologised/.

He didn't claim he hadn't meant what he said, because in the heat of the moment, he had. But he admitted that he certainly hadn't been kind to the dragon in that moment. He realised that he'd broken his heart. He, like his mentor, had lost sight of the smaller picture in favour of the bigger one. And he regretted greatly that he'd hurt Wrathion, of all people, so /much/ in doing so.

Of course, he clarified, he still meant what he said about the civilians. But he could see Wrathion was moving to fix that, in his future plans, and that he wished he could have encouraged him to do so by some method other than blackmail. He'd cried, too, apologising again and calling himself awful, manipulative; and for the first time, Wrathion hadn't stopped himself from crying with him, telling him that it only made two of them.

And now? Now, they were tickling each other.

It had taken weeks before the phrase had lost its sting, its reminder of that awful argument. But this time, the memories didn't even engage on Wrathion's radar - he was far too entertained by the breathless look of amazement and affection on Anduin's face, his dishevelled hair in disarray on the pillow as Wrathion had pounced and pinned him down to it to get his revenge for the tickling Anduin had visited on him moments earlier. He grinned lopsidedly: "and I you, my /ridiculous/ Prince," and poked Anduin's nose before yelping at the delicate fingers once again dancing over the sides of his ribs.

They tussled for dominance again; Wrathion grabbed the blanket and used it to pin Anduin's hands, only to find him wriggling out the other way than what Wrathion had anticipated and, before Wrathion could do anything to stop him, coming up to tickle him from behind instead. He gave up gladly, falling face-first to the bed and letting Anduin elicit childish giggles and breathless wheezes to his heart's content.

When Anduin relented, he panted, grinning over his shoulder at him. "Are we quite done now, my dear?"  
"It's no fun when you don't fight back," he smirked, then leant down to kiss him. "I prefer it when we're both playing."  
That was when it struck Wrathion that he hadn't flinched at those three words, those three deceptively powerful words - and he gave a surprisingly tender smile, twisting to lay on his back and offer Anduin a hug. Anduin flopped down into it, evidently tired, and Wrathion felt the Prince of Stormwind's breathing ease down into a sleeping pace.

He really was very soft. He slipped a glove off and ran his fingers through his thin, silky hair; his own was more like wool or linen, and it was a soothing contrast. He whispered those words again, as if trying them out - then again, and again, as he felt himself drift off to sleep as well.

"I love you. I love you..."


End file.
